


Vaguely Villainous

by SomeBratInAMask



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Anti-hero!Billy, M/M, Marvel 616 - Freeform, Mutant Registration Act, Post M-Day, Villain!Billy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4411193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeBratInAMask/pseuds/SomeBratInAMask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy is vaguely a villain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flash Forward

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: So, I changed Billy's code name in here from Wiccan to Demiurge with the third change to his alias. I know that's not popular. But hear me out - this new code name is infinitely convenient for this plot and the mental state I'm trying to construct for Billy.
> 
> EDIT 2.0: Also changing the verb tense to adhere to the following chapters. Decided to make this a series, which means it needs to be cleaned up and transformed beyond a drabble.

"Where is he?" Teddy asks.

"Some pocket universe," America answers, shrugging her shoulders.  She's tense, and the movement is forced.

"Can you find him?"

"Yeah, but I doubt he’ll talk," she says. "And frankly, I don't want him anywhere near this universe.”

Teddy cuts her off. "Find him, and I can make him talk. Away from here."

America appraises him, brow furrowed. Whatever she's looking for, she doesn't find it. Or maybe she does, because she gives in. "You better be good at keeping promises, Altman," she says gruffly. She swings her leg, striking the air. A tear appears in their reality, small enough Teddy could put a Band-Aid on it. The edges of it shimmer. He walks forward and peers in.

"Go away, Teddy." Billy's voice is familiarly warm, but now is edged in something sharp. Not warm; searing.

"We need to talk," Teddy tells him. Billy's hand reaches through the portal, fingers lit in blue like glowsticks. America calls Teddy's name in warning. Teddy quickly steps inside. The tear seals behind him.

They are alone in a living room Teddy doesn't recognize with a crackling fire place and earthy colors. The tail end of a quick chant wraps Billy in his costume, red cowl lacing around his head and obstructing his eyes.

"What do you think you're doing to the world, Billy?" Teddy demands.

"What do you mean?" counters Billy. "This isn't any of your business, you don't have to worry about it."

Teddy looms over him. Billy crosses his arms nervously, but stands his ground. "When super-powered, interdimensional terrorists surprise attack mutant prisons, killing guards and inmates alike," Teddy begins, tone falsely light, "with my  _fiancé_  floating in the background years after poofing out of existence - yeah, it becomes a little bit my business."

"Why? Because we dated in high school?" Billy jeers.

 _"That,_  and the whole 'surprise attack on a federal mutant prison killing everyone on location' thing. Falls under Avenger jurisdiction, so you know."

"It was a political statement," Billy explains, clipped.

"Which was responsible for 52 deaths," persists Teddy.

"Sometimes casualties are unavoidable, okay?" argues Billy. He's getting stressed. Thank god, he  _knows_  this is wrong. Billy is still the same kid.

"Terrorism is always avoidable," Teddy maintains.

Billy shakes his head. "We need to make it clear that unfair imprisonment of the gifted will not be tolerated. If you just knew things from my team's perspective — "

"Your team of psychopaths who are murdering people indiscriminately?"

Billy's face twists in hurt. "They're my  _friends."_ Billy's lips press suddenly and he geys a far-away look his eyes. After a couple seconds, his expression clears and refocuses on Teddy. "You need to get out," he orders. "This isn't your universe!"

"It's not yours, either," Teddy resists.

"I  _made_  it. My friends are safe here." Billy's arm extends, fingers lighting as his eyes shine iridescent beneath his hood.

Teddy grabs his wrist, hauling him off the floor. Billy grunts and grabs Teddy's arm, taking the pressure off his shoulder. He is level with Teddy's face now, feet dangling by Teddy's knees. "Your friends are killing people," Teddy says seriously. "That's not you."

Billy snarls. "You don't  _know_  me! I'm not Billy! I'm Demiurge! And things are different!"

Teddy is taken aback.  _"What?_  So, you think you're your powers now? Is that what this is? You're picking a new side and trying to play god?"

Billy squirms. "Let me go!"

Teddy feels anger snap into place like a key unlocking a vault. "Where even  _are we?"_ he asks, a dry laugh dusting his words. "Is this your headquarters? Hiding from the Avengers and the X-Men in a secret universe?"

Billy grits his teeth. "Not so secret, apparently," he says roughly, arms flexing as he tries to wrestle out of Teddy's grip.

"No, I guess you're right. What are you going do next then? Magic up a new universe? As many as you need to pretend you're not hurting people?"

Billy scowls. "First, I'm going to kick your ass."

"Bee, I've seen what you can do. If you wanted to hurt me, you could've done it as easily as you did those prisoners and guards."

"My team is  _coming._ Okay? They're going to be here soon and you need to get out of here!".

Teddy instinctively surveys the room for anyone arriving, but the room is still empty. "No," he says, lowering Billy to the carpet. "I think I'll make you choose who and what you're loyal to."

Billy scrambles back as soon as he touches the ground. He winces, rolling his shoulder. "You're asking for war, you know," he informs.

Teddy shrugs. "You're declaring it."


	2. Blood of the Coven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _poetry should whisper electric blue magic_  
>  _all the years of your life_  
>  _never forgettin to look you in the soul_  
>  _every once in a while_  
>  _n smile_  
>  \- "Poetry Should Ride the Bus," Ruth Forman

Tommy stands beneath a tree some ways off from the battle. He’s waiting to be deployed. In the sky is Billy, arms outstretched and toes pointed downward, like a ballet dancer or a hanged man. Electric blue magic spills from his fingers in jellyfish tendrils. Something shimmers and Tommy squints, just barely making out the thin shape of a dome, delicate as flesh. 

_ “I can’t limit the effects yet,” Billy says, eyes clenched and voice frustrated. _

_ Later; “Stay out of the dome, if you can,” Magneto warns the long-distance mutants. _

The fight orbits around Billy. He’s decked out in that new costume, the one with all the stars. It fits, in a way Tommy doesn’t like. He almost wonders if they’re trapped in Billy’s gravity ring, all those Avengers. Stops himself, because thoughts like those are dangerous. Tommy is familiar with thinking. Did a lot of it in prison. Not healthy when you’re shooting for homicidal. 

Maybe it’s in his head, but he swears he can feel the magic from here now. He gazes up and sees his brother and thinks:  _ he looks like a god. _

And then:  _ Magneto’s made a false prophet.  _ Tommy snorts. Sarcasm still feels good, even if the only witness is the gaggle of trees he’s stowed himself behind. 

Static pricks at his ear and Magneto speaks through the one-way radio.  _ “Speed: NYPD are arranged in a circle around Demiurge’s area of debilitation. They’re armed, as expected. You know what to do.”  _

“Copy,” Tommy mutters. What he never thought of in prison: the bureaucracy of super villain organizations. Tons of delegating in noble causes. He doesn’t know where Magneto is, but he likes to imagine him sprawled across a satin couch as henchmen feed him grapes. 

A few yards from Billy, some winged super gets close enough to nearly touch him. He drops like a fly. Tommy whips his head away before his eyes can follow the plummet. He kicks off and gets going. 

Above his head, it’s blue. But down on the grass, it’s green, green, green. Tommy likes that. Maybe it’s a power trip, He’s been getting quite a few of those lately. 

The NYPD are trying to form a barrier or something, which makes it easier for Tommy. Knock them down like dominoes; explode their guns. No one gets hurt, unless they’re near the gun. Definitely, no one dies. Tommy can live with a couple melted cop faces. He won’t have to see them anyway.

Something green, but not in a good way. Something big and green and blond. Tommy halts, heels digging into the dirt before he can run straight through Ted. “Tommy!” he greets, wide-eyed.

Tommy wiggles his gloved fingers. “It’s Speed.”

Ted rolls his eyes. “Right, right, secret identities. What are you doing here? Haven’t seen you since…” Ted trails off, then points at the Billy Nova. 

Ted is a distraction. But - fuck it. “Up Magneto’s asshole, actually.”

“Excuse me?” Ted says slowly. 

“Yeah, I’m evil now.” Tommy shrugs. “I’m still working on the monologuing, but you are looking at a certified member of the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants. Don’t let the name fool you, though. We’re good people.” Ted isn’t responding. “Should be Brotherhood of Good Samaritan Mutants, really. Also, it’s co-ed.” Tommy holds up a hand. “Wouldn’t have joined otherwise. Too progressive for sexism in the doomsday regime these days.”

“You’re with Magneto?” Ted asks.

“It’s a family thing. You wouldn’t understand,” Tommy jokes. 

Ted’s jaw drops a bit, then clicks shut. Tommy’s fingers begin to tap a nervous rhythm on his thigh. “Yeah,” agrees Ted, “apparently I wouldn’t. So, what? Is the Scarlet Witch bad now too? What about Quicksilver? Polaris?” Ted draws up a bit closer and Tommy consciously reminds himself to stand his ground. “Was there some big Magnus-Maximoff family reunion I wasn’t invited to?”

Tommy snaps his fingers. “Bingo! We discussed world domination over potato salad.”

“Tommy, shut up. Quicksilver, Scarlet Witch, and Polaris are on the side of the Avengers - ”

“Double agents. All of them.”

“ - but you and Billy decided to blow up in a storm of self-righteousness and hurt feelings - ”

“Hey, I didn’t do  _ shit  _ out of hurt feelings - ”

“ - when Congress passed that Mutation Differentiation Act. Since when has anyone gotten ahead by fighting fire with fire?”

_ “Hey! _ I had _ nothing _ to do with the attack at D.C., okay? I was still in Jersey!”

Ted swings his arms open. “Then what are you doing  _ here?” _

“Standing by my brother, that’s what!” Tommy answers. 

Ted’s voice comes quiet and stern. “So, you know it’s wrong. You don’t support this.”

Tommy can hear the gunshots he was supposed to prevent. He rakes a hand through his hair. “Look, I know Billy and I weren’t raised from the crib, or anything. But when it comes to it.” Tommy pauses, takes a breath. Allows his throat to lose some tightness. “He’s the only family I got.”

The sky where they’re at is blue. Bright, happy blue and untouched by Billy’s magic. It doesn’t seem right, like the world has no idea how shitty it’s being. Teddy’s thick eyebrows are furrowed. “You’ve got me. And the Young Avengers. We’re your family, too.”

His words make Tommy feel like the number one shithead. Tommy had really wanted the Young Avengers to be a family. There had been days he thought they were already there. “Ted, you know you’re like a brother to me. But - Billy _ is _ my brother. I can’t leave him.” 

And there, spelled out amongst the green, were Tommy’s thoughts. The simple truth: no matter what hell Billy put him through, Tommy couldn’t leave. 

“That’s all it takes for you to switch sides? To go back on everything we believed in, to give up on the idea of cooperation and - ”

“Save it,” Tommy interrupts. “I never bought that crap. Humans shit on everything because they’re in power.”

“And when you’re in power, you’ll shit on everything and be happy?” Ted retorts. 

Static in his ear again.  _ “Speed: NYPD not disabled. Sending reinforcement in seven minutes if they are not disposed.”  _ Time to speed things up.

“Sure, don’t see why not,” Tommy concedes. “Catch you later, big guy. Promise not to get funky with your molecules if you promise not to flatten me like a pancake next powwow.” Quickly, he slaps Ted’s shoulder and moves onto his dominoes. 

When he glances at Billy again, he hopes he knows what he’s doing. Hopes even more Tommy can pull it off. 


	3. Mutant Differentiation Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why Billy goes supernova.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it seems this one-shot has officially become a series. I never planned to continue it, not really, but life is unpredictable and it's 3 in the morning. C'est la vie!!

Kate wakes up at eleven in the morning. Her bones ache from last night’s patrol. She extracts herself from the blankets, cold air immediately swallowing her body and raising the tiny hair on her arms. The season’s mornings are crisp. Kate goes in search of slippers and something flannel to throw over her shoulders. Once she’s done that, she pours herself a bowl of cereal and pads over to the living room. She already knows what’s going to be on the news, but she turns it on anyway.

Predictably, it sucks.

A brunette with glasses and a gray blazer sits behind a desk, manicured nails clasped as if in prayer beside a coffee mug. The bottom of the screen has the running caption #washingtonwitch. “The U.S. Government is declaring all of Washington D.C. under threat by, potentially, a level five hostile mutant. Officials suggest to be on the look-out for an eighteen year old boy. Witnesses describe him as having curly black hair, pupil-less blue eyes, a slender build, and being of average male height. Officials instruct bystanders to not attempt to approach any boy matching this description, but to report his location to police and immediately leave the area.

“Here is footage of the mutant’s attack two blocks from The White House.”

The news switches to a slightly grainy recording of yesterday morning. There’s a park with tall trees. Billy levitates as visible magic pulses around him. His brown eyes have been completely drowned out by a possessed blue. Two dark curls peek out from under his cowl. Elongated tree branches weave across his body like a rib cage. Kate gnaws on her metal spoon. She waits for what’s coming.

The magic pulses around him four more times, growing from the center, steady as a heart beat. Then the blast rips from him and trees uproot, roofs detach, and cars are carried off. His mouth opens and it’s not Billy speaking, but several voices in unison. Kate recognizes it. It’s always that voice when he gets like this; an eerie echo that bounces off all ends of the earth like they’re in a fishbowl.

Subtitles appear at the bottom of the screen, but Kate can hear him plain. His words are simple: _“You want to be scared. You want us to be a threat. You want us to hurt you so much. I didn’t understand. I understand now.”_ There’s a moment of silence, followed by: _“I can give you what you want.”_

The screen returns to the manicured news reporter. “Many speculate the cause of this terrorism is the Mutant Differentiation Act, a bill passed by Congress only five hours before the assault from, what social networking site Twitter has dubbed, the Washington Witch.”

Kate groans. She saw the hashtags, but somehow it’s worse, hearing an adult say it like it’s a thing. Like it’s something that history books might publish, years from now. The news reporter carries on, safe in her little broadcast office room, even though Kate (perhaps unfairly) wants to shoot an arrow through the dip of her throat. “The Mutant Differentiation Act,” the reporter explains, “is proving to be quite controversial. The act works in tandem with the Mutant Registration Act, calling for the official ranking of mutants by the potential threat posed by their powers. The bill had a large conservative backing, enough to push it through despite public outcry from mutant allies.”

“And, you know, actual mutants,” Kate mumbles on impulse. She has spent too much time with Billy, with David, with _Tommy_ to not feel their anger whenever their genes were heard over their voices.

“Speaking today are Congressman Harris Don, mutant rights activist Stacy Patter, and former mutant Nicole Knowles,” the reporter introduces. “Nicole, you have a rather unique perspective on this issue, having been a mutant for most of your life until you were affected, as many mutants were, by the Scarlet’s Witch M-Day. Many Americans right now believe that the mere possession of such power corrupts mutants. Would you agree with this, as someone who knows both life as a mutant and as a human?”

Nicole is a young woman with dark skin and long, glossy hair. She could just as easily be a model as a public speaker. “I would say that everyone, regardless of mutation, is vulnerable to corruption, Jennifer. You see it among politicians, businesspeople, law enforcement - anyone, with power, is capable of doing bad things. Likewise, everyone - including mutants - is capable of doing wonderful things. So, I can’t say that mutation is involved with the moral behavior of the individual.”

The reporter, Jennifer, nods, then requests the congressman’s opinion. He’s a stocky man with pink skin and flimsy wisps of white hair. He chuckles. “Well, I think it’s a bit wishful to say that mutation had nothing to do with the moral behavior of the Washington Witch.” Kate cringes at his use of the sobriquet. “We have a clear case of domestic terrorism in which this mutant _explicitly_ confesses he wants us to fear him and his mutant peers. This is a hate crime, an expression of mutant supremacy, and frankly immediate proof of the Mutant Differentiation Act’s importance to the safety of this nation’s citizens.

“The MDA is not of anti-mutant sentiment. If anything, the MDA protects mutants. Low-level mutants, mutants with wings or scales, who will suffer not only the terrorism of high-level mutants such as yesterday’s, but the backlash of critics who cannot tell the difference between dangerous mutants and mutants just trying to make the best of, uh - ” the congressman shrugs and smiles, “a bad situation.”

“A good point,” Jennifer concedes. “What would you say about that, Stacey? Do you feel that mutants put each other at risk by committing these extreme crimes?”

“Certainly,” says Stacey. She does not elaborate. 

“You are the chairwoman of the Mutant Advocacy Organization and openly identify yourself as the mother of a mutant teenager. You have many ties with mutants, naturally, in your line of work. Will M.A.O. be issuing a public apology or an assurance of dissociation with the Washington Witch and any like-minded mutants?”

Kate’s jaw drops, spoon still in her mouth. She wipes the dribble of milk from her chin. “I can’t watch this anymore,” she says aloud. She continues watching, but grabs her phone from the coffee table and shoots America a text.

_R u watching channel 7 rn?_

Stacey smiles nervously. There is a ton of uncomfortable smiling from all three interviewees. “I don’t know about an apology, but I can say that M.A.O. has absolutely no connections with the mutant responsible for D.C., nor will we ever endorse rogue extremists like him.”

Kate’s phone buzzes. She slides her thumb to unlock.

_you mean am i watching 4 non-mutants discuss mutant problems? yeh. its fuckin stupid. and old._

Kate quickly responds: _nicole used to be a mutant. if david counts, so does she._

Kate glances back to the TV while waiting for America. Stacey still has the floor. “That being said, the Mutant Advocacy Organization _did_ oppose both the Mutant Registration Act and the Mutant Differentiation Act. We believe that such branding is reminiscent of the Holocaust stars and only serves to exacerbate an already hostile climate.”

“Boom,” says Kate.

Her phone buzzes again. Kate picks it up, thinking it’s America. It turns out to be Teddy.

_I cannot even fathom the sheer levels of on-the-nose our entire Young Avengers career has been. Jewish AND mutant. Will Billy ever catch a break? Will WE?_

Kate snorts. It’s a curt, bleak laugh that reminds her that she’s wanted to cry since yesterday. Since all the days leading up to yesterday, and for all the days following this one. She types back: _tune in next week 4 more on this shitstorm we call our lives._

_Words can’t convey how lucky we’ll be if we get a week’s break before more heavy rain._

Kate doesn’t respond. She turns off the TV and sinks her face in her hands.


	4. Aren't You a Little Young to Be a Spy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David visits Eli in the Bronx.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I hope no one is getting bored with the updates. I just want to establish everyone before I get to the exciting bits? I'll try to compensate with the next chapter, I swear. I already have an _idea._
> 
> Also, this was originally pre-slash to piss off sorceringing. I removed the romantic bits, though how great would it be if this story officially featured Eli/David?? Anyone, hmm?  
> [david/eli 4lyfe](https://40.media.tumblr.com/c1cc9783b7daf82831d42d644640d732/tumblr_o65oapYYd01r4ujjfo1_500.png)

Eli leans against the railing of his porch as he sits outside. The sun is setting and the sky is a bruising blue with a hot streak of orange at the horizon. He can smell his next door neighbor's Cloves. A couple houses down, Deandra yells for her daughter. Little Tamika hurriedly drives her pink bike down the sidewalk, squeezing the small horn in acknowledgement. She waves at Eli as she rides past. He smiles and nods.

He closes his eyes momentarily, breathing in the hazy summer night. His eyes snap open when someone cries his name. A couple yards away is David Alleyne at an easy jog. "Eli!" he calls again. He’s dressed in a creamy button-up and slacks, but the look is slightly offset by the beat-up white sneakers with peeling toes.

"The hell are you here?" Eli asks once David gets close enough to hear.

David frowns. "I called."

Eli pats his jean pocket. "Phone's not on me." Then he shrugs.

"I also texted."

"Still don't have my phone on me."

David pauses, then nods. "Right. Well, I'll admit, I did not get permission before coming over. But I'm glad you're not busy, _because,"_ David smirks and sifts through his pockets, "I have something you _might_ be interested in seeing."

Eli stares, making sure he keeps his expression fixed enough to intimidate. "What would you have done if I _had_ been busy, Alleyne? Actually screwed off?"

"Probably not," admits David, voice light. He hands Eli his phone. There’s a grainy picture of a license plate on it.

Eli flicks his eyes upward, expecting _some_ preamble, but David offers none. Eli gives up. "What am I looking at?"

David points his finger, satisfied. "Glad you asked," he says, like he didn't set up Eli to do exactly that. "That, right there, is the car we spotted earlier with Miss America."

Eli raises his eyebrows. "The one stuffing little kids in the backseat?"

"Bingo. I did some further investigating, too, and it turns out that all these kids are mutant-registered. Specifically, registered the same day Billy went crazy and tore up D.C."

Eli rubs the back of his neck. "Shit," he murmurs. "That can't be a coincidence."

David takes his phone. "Technically, it _could_ be. But either way, it's unlikely enough to warrant suspicion. Whether the driver is pro-mutant or anti, however, is anyone's guess."

"So, what? We track them down and end them?”

David grins. "You catch on quick. Also, it's a summer night, school's out - scream and shout - and we're two legal adults." He crosses his arms behind his back. "Can you think of a better time to partake in some last-minute espionage?"

"Yes, I can," Eli replies roughly, standing up. "The afternoon, for example. When my grandma isn't going to lose her shit over my being gone." He glances around at the open door. "But kidnappings aren't really a _put-off-till-tomorrow_ thing."

"Good," David says firmly.

"Yeah, let me just tell my grandma I'm leaving.”

David holds up his hands. "No problem. Oh, though, we may need to stop by my place for gas. I'm running low on gas _and_ gas money."

Eli is surprised. "You? Unprepared?"

David grimaces. "Didn't want to bring my card, and I just gave out my last twenty on the walk from my car to your place. A man asked if I had anything to spare."

Eli furrows his brows. "Who asked you for money?"

"Ah, I don't know their name. They had a shaved head, but really _bushy_ sideburns. Oh, and a bow-tie? Very strange," remarks David.

"Yeah, that was a Tyrell. I can tell you straight-up, that money is going towards beer."

"I sort of realized that when he proceeded directly into the package store we were next to," David says flatly.

"You gave a stranger sitting outside a package store money?" For a genius, David is an _idiot._

"Yes, yes, mock me all you'd like, Bradley." David crosses his arms. "For at least two seconds, I felt like a hero."

Eli smiles lopsidedly. "Well, if all goes according to plan tonight, you'll get that feeling back."

David returns the smile pleasantly.


End file.
